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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306880">Oops</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp'>MissScorp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Gil Arroyo Whump, Humor, Self-Harm, Self-harm but with a twist, whump!crack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:06:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leaves Gil with no patience and a head that's throbbing like a bad tooth. </p><p>For Bad Things Happen Bingo: self-harm (with a twist).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oops</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gil pushed the door to the precinct open with a deep wealth of resignation burning a hole in his gut.</p><p>He should've called out.</p><p>Claimed he had a severe case of food poisoning or the flu.</p><p>It wasn't his style, though.</p><p>Wasn't his way.</p><p>He had never once shirked his responsibilities as a cop in his two decades. Never hid behind false excuses or pretexts. He'd face the proverbial fire.</p><p>Same as he always did.</p><p>Gil stepped inside the dim entryway. His nerves decided to practice the Argentine tango underneath his skin. His stomach roiled but he fought down the nausea.</p><p>Detectives and officers gaped at him as he headed up the stairs.</p><p>A few even gasped.</p><p>One rookie officer spit out a mouthful of coffee as he passed him. Gil just rolled his eyes and pulled open the door to enter the bullpen.</p><p>Whispers followed him as he made his way to the safety of his office. He just kept going, jaw clenched, and back ramrod straight. He should've expected the majority to react like this. It was his fault for coming in with a mutilated face.</p><p>Most of those under his command had never seen him like this.</p><p>Hell, he hadn't seen <em>himself</em> like this in years.</p><p>He shrugged the whispers off but the stares were a bit harder for him to work around. It wasn't like he could pull a Bright and avoid looking people in the eye. He was in command of this precinct and had to conduct himself accordingly. A few stern glares sent some of the rookies scurrying off.</p><p>He passed Dani at her desk, saw her do a double take and said, tone firm, "Don't ask."</p><p>JT turned around from where he'd been talking with another detective, shook his head, and mumbled, "Damn," under his breath before wisely retreating to the safety of the conference room. Gil still skewered his back with a look.</p><p>Edrisa came around the corner with her usual bundle of hyperactive energy, a folder clutched in her hands, and a wide smile on her face.</p><p>"Lieutenant, I..." Her eyes grew big as saucers behind her glasses. "Uhm, wow..."</p><p>"Don't, Edrisa." He hadn't had anywhere near enough coffee to deal with her litany of anecdotes or questions. "Just hand me the file, please."</p><p>"Uhm, yeah, sure," she said as she held it out. "Uh, Aloe Vera will..."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>Gil stepped around her, heading quickly for his office before he lost what little patience he had left. The less people he had to deal with at the moment, the better. He kicked the door closed behind him and let out a small sigh as the quiet enveloped him.</p><p>His reprieve didn't last long as the second he moved away from the door it burst open.</p><p>
  <em>If I haven't had enough coffee to deal with the hyperactivity of Edrisa, I haven't had near enough to deal with Bright's...</em>
</p><p>"Gil!" Excitement pulsed in the kid's voice and Gil's temples. "I've figured out how Ezra Davis murd..." The kid stopped midstream, eyes popping wide, and mouth dropping open. "Did you get attacked by your electric razor?"</p><p>Gil's nerve endings stretched thin as hair strands. He kept hold of his temper, though, telling himself that filling out the paperwork to justify locking Bright in a holding cell just wasn't worth the additional frustration and stress.</p><p>"I had an accident," he said as he made his way over to his desk, "and that's all I'm going to say about it."</p><p>"An accident is an unforeseen situation or circumstance that lacked intention." Bright waved a hand towards his face. "This looks more like you got attacked by razors..."</p><p>"I know what it looks like." All he wanted was his dark office, a pot of coffee, and five minutes quiet. None of which it seemed he was gonna get by the looks of it. "I was there when it happened."</p><p>"How exactly did you accomplish... it?"</p><p>Gil sent the kid a fulminating look as he sunk into the chair behind his desk. "Bright, I swear I will send your ass home if you don't get out of my office right now."</p><p>"But..."</p><p>Shock, confusion and a good deal of hurt swirled in those soulful eyes. Gil wavered, as he so often did when it came to Bright, but the thin, sharp-edged bands of steel around his temples firmed his resolve.</p><p>"<em>Out</em>."</p><p>Not that the kid took the hint and left.</p><p>Be too simple for him and if there was one thing that Malcolm Bright didn't do it was simple.</p><p>"Is there something else bothering you?"</p><p>Gil leaned back in his chair and prayed for someone to come to his rescue. Specifically, the one person who could make Bright obey his wishes and help him with his headache: <em>Jessica</em>.</p><p>"As if causing myself incredible mental anguish by shaving my goatee off isn't enough for me to deal with?"</p><p>Bright's lips twitched. To his credit, though, the kid didn't smile. Gil issued a silent thank you for his restraint.</p><p>"How did you cause yourself this bit of self-harm?"</p><p>Fragments of all the times when he had to patch up the kid after he cut himself a bit too deeply played through his mind. Bright hadn't resorted to those extremes in a long time, thankfully.</p><p>"Fozzy decided to jump onto the sink as I was shaving."</p><p>"Lemme guess?" Unholy amusement brightened his face. If Gil wasn't feeling so lousy, he'd have been thrilled at seeing Bright animated about something that didn't involve murder. "He bumped your arm and <em>swish</em>?"</p><p>"Yes, Bright." His headache had officially escalated to nightmare territory now. "Now, get out."</p><p>Not that he did.</p><p>No, Bright just continued on, oblivious to his discomfort.</p><p>"I don't think I have ever seen you without your goatee."</p><p>"Because I've had it for as long as I've known you."</p><p><em>For as long as the kid has been alive</em>, he added silently.</p><p>"Does it feel strange?"</p><p>"Does what feel strange?"</p><p>"Not having it?"</p><p>Gil strove for patience but lack of sleep, causing himself deep, psychological harm, and the looks of all those under his command was severely testing his limits.</p><p>"Bright, go home."</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"Go home," he repeated, "or I'll call your mother to come and get you."</p><p>Self-harming masochist Bright might be but threaten him with his mother and he beat a hasty retreat.</p><p><em>Thankfully, </em>he mused as he rest his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, all, and welcome! This bit of whump!crack is for my thirteenth Bad Things Happen Bingo card, prompt: self-harm. Inspiration for this came from Lou having shaved off his goatee. I just decided to twist the self-harm prompt into something funny by having Gil required to shave his off following an accident.</p><p>Please, if you like this story, follow/bookmark/kudo/favorite it. Comments are also dearly welcomed!</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>Take care!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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